


Menace

by DPPatricks



Category: Starsky & Hutch
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-12
Updated: 2018-10-12
Packaged: 2019-08-01 03:33:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16277006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DPPatricks/pseuds/DPPatricks
Summary: A sinister-sounding message heralds a fraught two days for our favorite BCPD cops.





	Menace

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This story was spawned by the Me_and_Thee 100’s Challenge 442: Forgotten.  
> Again, sincere thanks to Paula and Beena for encouraging betas.

“Whatcha got there, Starsk?”

Dave Starsky opened the driver’s door of the Torino and climbed in while his partner, Ken Hutchinson, did the same on the passenger’s side. As soon as both doors were closed, Starsky handed over the piece of paper he’d pulled from under the windshield wiper. 

Hutch unfolded it and read. “‘I will not be forgotten!’” The sky-blue eyes clouded immediately. “That’s ominous.” He handed the note back.

“I’ve seen a man at our last three crime scenes. He hasn’t done anything to call attention to himself, just stands in the crowd behind the barricades and watches.”

Hutch nodded. “About your height. Lean, hollow-cheeked, clean-shaven, brown hair, sunglasses. Tan windbreaker. He’s always at the back so I don’t know about pants or shoes.”

“That’s him.”

“Apparently,” Hutch gestured toward the note, “he thinks you should know who he is.”

“That’s just it… I think I do.”

“‘Think’?”

Starsky stuffed the paper in his jacket pocket and started the car. “It’s been twelve years, Hutch.”

“Army?”

“Yeah.” Starsky pulled into traffic and headed for Metro. “I need to call the JAG office in L.A. Then let’s go talk to Dobey.”

“Is the note a threat?”

“Could be.”

“Don’t even think about not telling me, Starsk.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Yeah, right.”

Starsky reached over and took his partner’s hand. “If it’s Cain Morgan, who _should_ be in Leavenworth, I’ll need all the help I can get.”

*******

At Metro, Starsky headed out of the stairwell on Two instead of going up to their usual floor. Hutch followed. As soon as they were through the door marked, Records & Information, Starsky oozed up to the first desk. 

“Minnie, my love --”

“Don’t you ‘Minnie, my love,’ me, David Starsky,” Minnie Kaplan sliced icily over his words. “Roger and I are still digging our way out from under the last favor you asked me to do!”

Starsky grimaced, his expression kicked-puppy-dog contrite. “I’m sorry. It wasn’t supposed to be that --”

“Oh, shut up.” Her smile took the sting out of her original retort. “I was only pulling your leg.” She gestured to a stack of files on the corner of her desk. “These are what you asked for. I was just about to bring them up.”

Starsky leaned a hip next to her computer monitor. “That’s great, Minnie. I’ll take them with me. But what I really need you to do, as soon as you can, please, is call the JAG office in L.A. Find out if Cain Morgan, first name spelled C-A-I-N, is still in Fort Leavenworth.”

Minnie wrote it down. “And if he’s not?”

Starsky glanced at Hutch, unable to hide his concern, before he turned back to Minnie. “Hutch and I’ll be in Dobey’s office.”

She spun her Rolodex. “You could make this call yourself, you know.”

He grinned at her. “Yeah, but you’ll charm those officious bastards into giving up the information in half the time it’d take me.”

She found the number and picked up her phone, returning his smile. “You got that right!”

Starsky slid the folders into his arms and opened the door for Hutch. 

Upstairs, they barely got into the squad room before Dobey bellowed through his open doorway. “Starsky! Hutchinson! My office!” 

Starsky dropped the files on his desk. “You figure he’s reading my mind now?”

Hutch physically shuddered. “That’s a scary thought.” He preceded Starsky into Dobey’s office and sat in his usual guest chair. Starsky closed the door, went to the water cooler, drew a cup, and perched on the front edge of the second chair’s seat. He drank half the contents and passed Hutch the rest. 

“What’s going on with this rash of robberies?” Dobey’s voice was taut but his expression wasn’t angry. Yet.

Starsky heard his partner’s thought: _Maybe he_ is _reading your mind_. He took the note out of his pocket and laid it on the desk. 

Dobey read it before drilling Starsky with a dour look. “What is this supposed to mean? And where did it come from?”

“It was under the windshield wiper on my car this morning. Hutch and I have both spotted a man in the crowd at the last three crime scenes.”

Dobey turned his hard gaze to Hutch, who shook his head. “No idea, Captain. We get a lot of repeat observers in that area. I didn’t think anything about it until Starsky showed me the note.”

Dobey looked back at Starsky. “What makes you think he wrote it? And if he did, why is he just standing around at crime scenes, watching you…” He picked up the note and raised his eyebrows. “When he evidently knows where you live.” He hesitated and carefully put it down. “And why am I handling this? Shouldn’t we send it down for fingerprints?”

Starsky affected his most casual shrug. “Don’t worry about that, Cap. If it’s Morgan, and I’m willing to bet it is, fingerprints won't be necessary because he and I have some history.”

“What kind of history?” Dobey demanded.

“I was part of the team that put him away in Fort Leavenworth.”

“The military prison?” Surprise was written all over Dobey’s face.

“Yes, sir.”

“So it doesn’t involve your career as a police officer?” Puzzlement was now showing in Dobey’s dark eyes.

“No, sir. Last I knew, he was serving a pretty lengthy sentence. But the note makes me think that’s no longer the case. You see, he had a thing about being forgotten.” He glanced at Hutch. “If Morgan’s behind these robberies, he’s hanging around in front afterward, trying to jog my memory.”

“You figure he’s orchestrating them?” Dobey asked.

“Either that, Captain,” Hutch said, “Or, somehow, he knows where and when the robbers are going to hit, since we’ve seen him at the last three.”

Starsky sent his partner an appreciative glance. “I’d put money on the first one of those choices.”

“Ballsy guy,” Dobey noted. “Is that what you’re saying?”

“Worse than that, Capt’n," Starsky began, "he’s --”

A soft knock sounded on the hallway door. Dobey hid his irritation and hollered, “Come in!”

Minnie stuck her head around the door. “I have the information Starsky asked for, sir.”

Dobey motioned her to join them. Starsky got up, gesturing her to his seat, before he sat on the arm of Hutch’s chair. She handed the piece of paper she’d written Morgan’s name on to Starsky. “He’s out.”

Starsky read the dates Minnie had added under the name. “Served only twelve years of a twenty-to-life sentence.”

Minnie’s expression conveyed what-can-I-say? “It seems the military’s prison is as over crowded as all the civilian ones. He was a model inmate so they let him go early.”

Dobey leaned his forearms on the desk and laced his fingers. “Okay, Starsky, who is this person?” 

Starsky took a deep breath. “His name is Cain Morgan. I helped put him away and hoped I’d never see him again.”

Dobey leaned back, his twined fingers falling onto his ample stomach. “That doesn’t sound like the beginning to me.” 

Hutch jumped up, nudging Starsky to take his place. He ducked out to the squad room, came back with Starsky’s desk chair, and sat down next to him. “Facts, Starsk, just the facts.”

Starsky punched him lightly in the arm. “Your Joe Friday sucks.”

“Starsky!” Dobey was in no mood for levity.

Starsky hunched his shoulders. “Right. Cain Morgan.” He pointed to the note still on Dobey’s desk. “He’s around Hutch’s and my age and, from what I learned about him, his forgotten hang-up started when he was a foster kid in Texas. He got separated from his sister and shunted around a lot. When Lt. James, of the Judge Advocate General’s office up in L.A., arrested him, Morgan made a big deal out of the fact that, while he was growing up, nobody remembered his birthday, or even his name, sometimes. He was in homes with a bunch of other fosters, picked on, bullied… all the usual complaints and excuses for having turned rotten. But he took not being remembered to heart.”

“What’s this got to do with our robberies?” Dobey was clearly losing patience.

“I’m getting to that, sir.” Starsky took the half-full cup from Hutch and downed the rest of the water, crumpled the paper and tossed it in the waste basket. “I’d never heard of Morgan, myself, until Ma told me about him.”

Dobey was plainly lost. “What does your _mother_ have to do with this?”

Minnie stood up. “Uh, Captain, would it be okay if I got us each a cup of coffee?”

Dobey seemed surprised to find her still in the room. “Don’t you have other things to do, Minnie?”

She fisted her hands on her hips. “If you think I’m going to wait to hear this story through the Metro grapevine, you’ve got another think coming, sir. You’re going to need me and my computer, you know you are, so why not let me hear about it from the horse’s mouth?”

Starsky grinned. “She’s right, Cap. And I’d love a cup of coffee.”

Dobey relented. “Good idea, Minnie.”

She headed out to the squad room. “Don’t you dare say another word until I get back, Starsky. You all just talk about the weather for a minute!” She left the door open behind her. 

Starsky felt his partner’s supportive stare and nodded his gratitude.

Dobey pulled a pad of paper over and picked up a pen. “Looks like I’m the designated stenographer.” The gruff tone covered genuine concern.

Minnie came back, her fingers laced through the handles of four mugs. “I asked Simmons to start a fresh pot. We may need it.” She kicked the door shut behind her and passed around the welcome caffeine. “What did I miss?”

Starsky swallowed greedily. “Nothing, Min, I was just trying to figure out how to explain a pretty convoluted series of events.” He glanced at Hutch. “Start at the beginning, right?”

Hutch gave him his for-public-consumption smile. “Usually a good place, partner.”

“Okay. Vietnam. Late fall, nineteen sixty-eight.” Starsky took a deep breath. “My squad was ambushed and it was reported that we’d all been killed.”

Minnie gasped. “Oh, honey…”

He lifted a shoulder. “It’s okay. Things were chaotic, to say the least, and lots of false information floated around. One of my guys _was_ dead but the rest of us had only been wounded.”

Dobey drank his coffee. “Since this Cain Morgan was in Leavenworth, I assume he was over there?”

“Yes, sir. He was a sergeant, same rank as me, the chief clerk in the chaplain’s office. All the gory details of everything that happened to everybody crossed his desk. And, once a month, he came back to the states on a C-one-thirty flight carrying bodies. At least the ones destined for Dover Port Mortuary.”

“They’d lived in the eastern part of the country, right?” Minnie glanced at Dobey. “My cousin’s son came back through there.”

“That’s right,” Starsky said. “The KIAs from west of the Mississippi went to Travis Air Force Base, near Sacramento.”

“Go on,” Dobey urged.

“Well,” Starsky continued, “the reports of my death were premature but Morgan got the news, and my personal information, minutes before he boarded a flight. One of the dead on his plane was eventually going to The Bronx so, when he read my mother’s name and address, he figured he’d kill two birds with one stone.”

“What are you _talking_ about, Starsky?” Dobey had lost his last remnant of calm.

Starsky held up a placating hand. “Bear with me, sir, it’s going to get complicated.” He drank some coffee and organized his thoughts. “Lt. James and I discovered all this later but it seems that Morgan visited as many of the families of the dead as he could, making not-being-forgotten the key point of his commiseration spiel. Trouble is, he lied to all of them. Told them he’d been their son’s best buddy when, in fact, he’d never been in combat, had never even been anywhere near a fire base. He kept them in tears or stitches with tales of jaunts into Saigon, or late night poker parties. Treks through the jungle, horror stories about ambushes and evacs. He claimed their sons had saved his life countless times and he’d done the same for them.”

Hutch caught his eye, his gaze icy. “He played on their sympathies.” 

“You bet!”

“Why?” Dobey’s expression said he still didn’t understand. 

“To con them out of money.” Starsky tried to keep the hatred he felt for Morgan out of his voice. “He said he’d covered their sons’ gambling debts, even bought weed and harder stuff for them. And, of course, once they heard that, most of them insisted on repaying him.”

“That’s despicable!” Minnie’s knuckles were white around her mug.

“And he visited your mother?” Dobey asked.

“Yep. That’s how I found out about it. I called Ma as soon as I got to Hawaii and, after she stopped crying, she said a Sergeant Morgan had come to the apartment and told her I was dead. While I spent the next three weeks at her place, getting the medical part of my leg taken care of, she filled me in on the whole story.” 

Hutch put a hand on Starsky’s arm. “She hadn’t gotten a telegram, no Army chaplain had visited her, but Morgan told her you’d been killed.”

Starsky patted the hand and his partner withdrew it. “He sure did, but she smelled con from the instant he smiled. She didn’t let him know that, though. Instead, she listened and nodded a lot.” 

“She didn’t give him any money, did she?” Dobey’s tone sounded like he was afraid of the answer.

“Nope. He must have known she was suspicious so he didn’t directly ask for any, but she was positive he’d have accepted it, if she’d offered.” Starsky couldn’t keep the smile out of his voice. “My mother’s always been smarter than most people give her credit for.”

“So, what happened?” Minnie asked.

“I came out to L.A. for my rehab,” Starsky went on, “because their V.A. facility was the best in the country. I got in touch with the JAG office, trying to find out anything I could about Sergeant Cain Morgan, and it turned out they already had their eye on him for an entirely different reason.”

Dobey emptied his mug and set it down. “And that was?”

Starsky drilled Dobey with a no-nonsense look. “He was smuggling heroin into the country in the transfer cases.” 

Starsky could see that Hutch already knew the answer but had to ask, for the others’ benefit. “You mean in the coffins?”

Starsky shrugged. “More or less. The bodies weren’t put into actual caskets until the morticians at Dover or Travis had done the best they could with them. They came back in plain aluminum boxes.”

Dobey was fully in cop mode now. “Morgan must have had accomplices at both ends.” 

“Yes, sir, he did. Lt. James and I spent a couple of months digging and nailed two PFCs in Saigon and two assistant morticians in Dover. The ones from Dover ended up in the federal prison at Leavenworth. Morgan, and the other two were sent next door to the military version, Fort Leavenworth.”

“But how did you find out about the families?” Hutch asked. 

“From what Ma had told me,” Starsky continued, “and, believe me, she was so angry and had such a good memory, she could quote the entire interview almost word for word, I suspected that Morgan had contacted as many of them as possible.” Starsky finished his coffee. “And I was right. The L.T. and I talked to more than thirty. Most were really embarrassed that they’d been conned and a few wouldn’t even admit it. But we got the amounts from the majority of them and made sure they received restitution from the three accounts of Morgan’s that we found. James always figured there were more but three were all he uncovered.”

Dobey sighed. “Even returning the money wouldn’t heal the emotional pain he’d caused.”

“No, sir, it couldn’t do that,” Starsky agreed. “Which is why I hated him so much. Preying on those vulnerable people made me so mad I could hardly see straight. Ma didn’t let his visit upset her as much as he’d probably intended, but it was still a wrench for her.”

“What an evil man,” said Minnie.

“There’s more.” Starsky stared into his cup for a moment before looking at Hutch, then Dobey. “Morgan told the families he was collecting funds for a Vietnam memorial. Even if some of them didn’t pay him for their sons’ supposed indiscretions, they almost always contributed to that.” 

Dobey was visibly appalled. “The bastard wasn’t making enough from the drugs, he stole from people who were already devastated by the loss of their sons.”

“Nice guy, right?” Starsky glanced down again into his empty cup.

Hutch took it from Starsky’s hands. “That’s the most pernicious thing I’ve ever heard of.” He went out to the squad room, came back with the fresh pot, and refilled all their mugs. 

Starsky sipped the hot liquid carefully. “Ma spent a few weeks in California and went with Lt. James and me when we contacted the families. She was a big help in convincing most of them to testify at the court-martial, and the evilness of what he’d done added to his sentence.”

“But he’s out now,” Dobey noted, “and you believe he’s plotting revenge against you?”

“Starsky must be next on his list, Captain,” Minnie said.

“What do you mean, ‘next’?” Starsky, Hutch and Dobey asked, almost simultaneously.

Minnie’s expression had turned solemn. “The JAG officer I spoke to told me that Lieutenant, now Captain, James was killed three weeks ago in a drive-by shooting outside their building.”

“Shit!” Starsky didn’t try to hide his anger. “He was a good man.”

“Morgan took care of James and now he’s down here hunting you.” Dobey’s observation wasn’t a question. “And he knows where you live.”

“Starsk…” Starsky met Hutch’s intense gaze. “You think he’s shown himself at the crime scenes, written that note, so that you’ll know what’s coming when he sets some kind of trap for you?”

“Yeah, Hutch, that’s exactly what I think.”

Hutch turned to Dobey. “Captain --”

Dobey’s phone rang and he snatched up the receiver. “Not now!” After a few seconds, however, he put the call on speaker. “Say that again, Huggy.”

Huggy Bear’s voice filled the room. “Starsky, Hutch, you need to get down here. Got somebody you should talk to.”

“What’s this about, Huggy?” Hutch asked. “We’ve got a pretty serious --”

“Don’t I know it, Blondie,” Huggy broke in. “A dude’s out to get Starsky! That’s what’s this is about.”

Starsky glanced at each of the others in the room. “We’re on our way, Hug!” He bolted through the squad room door, knowing Hutch was right behind him.

*******

Starsky parked the Torino in the alley behind The Pits. Hutch held the back door open for him and they hurried inside. Huggy and a young, shifty-eyed black man were waiting for them at the bar. Since the place wasn’t open for business yet, they were the only ones there.

Huggy slid off his stool and led the way to a booth. Waiting for the young man to slide in first, Huggy joined him, leaving the second side open. Hutch, then Starsky took places across from them.

“Starsky,” Huggy began, “this here’s Gil. Says he’s got something important to tell you.” 

Starsky studied the snitch. He was in his early twenties with short, curly black hair and dark brown eyes, a scruffy three- or four-day beard, and nervous hands. From the pressure of Hutch’s thigh against his, Starsky knew his partner was as instantly distrustful of this person as he was.

“Huggy said you have something to tell us.” Starsky kept his misgivings out of his voice. “We’re listening.”

Gil grabbed a napkin and wiped sweat off his face. “Could I have something to drink?”

“No,” Huggy said, without a trace of humor. “The color of your skin carries no weight. You had me get these gentlemen down here and, if it was on false pretenses, I guarantee you will be sorry.” 

“What’s your full name, kid?” Hutch asked.

“Gilbert Rathman.” He wiped his face again and grabbed more napkins. “If Morgan finds out…”

Starsky stared into the darting eyes. “How will he find out? Are you going to go back and report this conversation?”

“What? No, man!” Rathman fairly shouted. “I’m gettin’ out of town. I knew this was your hangout --”

“How did you know that?” Hutch’s cold tone cut across whatever the next word would have been.

“Morgan! He’s been scoutin’ you. Both of you! He knows everything about you!” Rathman’s frantically moving gaze stopped on Starsky. “And you’re next!”

Starsky allowed three silent seconds to pass. “Next… after what?”

“That army guy, o’ course,” Rathman said. “I wasn’t with him when that went down but I heard about it from a few of the others that were. An’ I don’t want no part of shit like that.”

“You’re only a robber, is that it?” Starsky asked.

“Not a killer,” Hutch added.

“That’s right! And I don’t even go in those places, I’m a wheel man!” Rathman wiped his forehead. “Figured I’d warn you. And maybe you’d be grateful enough to loan me bus fare.”

“No.” Starsky duplicated Huggy’s stern tone and single word. “You got yourself into this, Rathman, now you’re going to let us help you get out of it.”

“No, man, I can’t…” He tried to push Huggy out of the way but the Bear remained solidly where he was. Rathman gave up and scrunched into his corner, a trapped weasel. “What d’ you mean, help me get out of it?”

“Does Morgan have a place here in Bay City?” Hutch asked. “A hideout, a headquarters?”

Rathman shook his head. “I got no idea. Each time he drops us off, he tells us where and when to meet him again. It’s never the same place twice. And he don’t keep nobody with him.” 

Starsky reached to an adjacent table and picked up the napkin holder, which he slid toward Rathman. “How many is ‘us’?”

Rathman took a fistful and mopped. “Six. Five came down from L.A. with Morgan, I’m the newbie.”

“Who plans the robberies?” Hutch’s tone was still cold. He wasn’t warming up to Rathman any more than Starsky was.

“How the fuck do I know?” Rathman was still perspiring profusely. “When he picks us up he tells us the where, when and how. We do the job, he pays us, and dumps us.”

“How’d you hook up with this clown?” Huggy asked. Starsky saw a hint of cunning and realized the Bear was playing ‘good cop.’

Rathman threw a disdainful look at Huggy. “You expect me to fall for that come-on? Your buddies lean on me and you offer me some kinda… what? Support? Sympathy? ‘Cause we’re brothers? Well, that’s bullshit!”

“Yes, it is,” Huggy agreed, which surprised Rathman. Huggy gestured toward Starsky and Hutch. “Those two may not share the ethnic background you and I do, but they’re more my brothers than you’ll ever be! So ditch the attitude and answer their questions.”

Rathman slumped, mopping his brow again. “I’m an ex-con, fellas. Can’t hold a job. Had a girlfriend but she was always on my case. My mother was worse. She threw me out, said I was worthless.”

“Robbing small businesses pretty much proves them right, don’t you think?” Hutch’s sarcasm was completely lost on Rathman.

“But you can’t take the lifestyle any more, right?” Starsky prodded. “You’re not really a bad person, you just never got a break. Is that what you want us to believe?”

“I don’t care what you believe!” Rathman threw his hands up and damp paper fluttered to the table. “I figured I’d clue you in to what was coming and then get the hell out of town! I ain’t really done nothing, I’m Morgan’s wheel man. I drive, that’s all. The others go in, do their thing, and I get us away before the cops show up.”

“If somebody gets killed during one of these robberies, Rathman, you’ll go down for murder.” Starsky pointed out.

“What? No,” Rathman protested. “You don’t understand. I’m only the wheel man.”

“That’s not the way the law looks at it.” Hutch wasn’t giving the kid an inch.

“Shit! Fuck!” Rathman buried his face in his hands for a minute. When he finally looked up, his eyes were still jittery but his tone was firmer. “What can I do, man?”

“Well…” Starsky considered for a few long moments. “If you help us get Morgan, Hutch and I might be able to talk to the D.A. for you. Get you the best deal possible.”

“No way. No! He’ll kill me.” When no one offered him an alternative, Rathman swiped at more perspiration and his shoulders drooped. “What would I have to do?”

“When’s the next job?” Hutch asked.

“Tomorrow.”

“Where?” Starsky took a pad of paper and a pencil out of his pocket.

“I don’t know!” Rathman exploded. “I told you! Morgan only gives us the information right before the hit! I drive where he tells me to.”

“Always on our beat,” Hutch noted.

“Yeah.” Rathman settled and sulked. “Like I said, he’s checked you out. He knows where to strike so’s you get the call.”

“And tomorrow’s going to be the same?” Hutch pulled the paper and pencil to him and began making notes. “You’ll drop him off so that he can be in the crowd… wait a minute.” He looked up and caught Rathman’s sneaky eyes. “How does that work anyway?” 

Rathman sat up and grabbed the last of the napkins. “He’s always had a bolt hole near the job, a garage, abandoned warehouse, some empty place. After the hit, I drive in, close the door, and we all wait. He watches you two at the scene for a while, then he comes for us in an old shuttle bus. Runs us to the drop-off and splits. Tells us where and when to meet him again. And he’s always got a different vehicle for me to drive to the next job. I think the dude must have money stashed somewhere to be able to come up with all the cars, vans, garages and shit! And, from what he’s let slip once or twice, as soon as he takes care of you, Starsky, he’s headed out of the country.”

As Rathman mopped his face, Starsky wondered what he was on. Druggies were rarely reliable and his suspicions about this kid were growing. Still, he kept his tone level. “So, tell us about tomorrow.”

“They’re going to knock over one of a few places we’ve scouted.” Rathman was trying to sound in-control, now. “Morgan says he’ll decide which one in the morning, depending on how mean he feels after his first cup of coffee. And he says there’s going to be violence this time.” He glanced at Starsky. “Says he wants to make sure you’re pissed off.” 

Hutch slid the paper and pencil across to Rathman. “Names and addresses of the possible targets.”

Rathman scribbled for a few minutes before shoving the items back. “The nine-one-one call is going to be timed so that you two show up as we’re leavin’. Morgan’s not going to be in the crowd, though. He’s going to stay with me and lead you into a trap! Then he’ll kill you!”

“Why did he give you all this information about this particular job,” Hutch asked, “when you say he’s never told you as much before?”

Rathman tried to hide a momentary gleam in his eyes but Starsky saw it. “Because this one’s for all the marbles. He’s through watchin’ you, he’s ready to waste you!”

Starsky discussed things silently with Hutch. “Any way you could call us after you find out the location?”

“No fuckin’ way, man!” More wet napkins went flying. “Morgan never lets any of us out of his sight after he picks us up. If I tried to make a phone call, that’d be all she wrote!” 

“He let you out of his sight when you dropped him off to watch the crime scene the other three times. Didn’t he?” Again, Hutch’s sarcasm slid right over Rathman.

“Yeah.” Rathman strangled the remaining napkins. “But none of us had the guts to cross him. We all know what would happen.”

“Like you’re crossing him now.” Hutch’s prod was subtle but it found it’s mark.

Rathman slumped. “Yeah. Like right now.”

Starsky leaned his elbows on the table. “So, this is what’s going to happen tomorrow, Gil. You’re going to be at the pickup site, just like you’ve been before. You’re going to drive to the job and wait in the get away vehicle. When Hutch and I respond, you’re going to lead us on a merry chase.”

Rathman was definitely not the sharpest knife in the drawer and his confusion showed. “How are you gonna know --

“We’ll have the most likely targets covered,” Hutch interrupted. “As soon as we learn which one is the real site, Starsky and I’ll be there.”

“And what happens when you find yourselves in the trap?” Rathman looked as if he was expecting something of the sort, himself.

“You let us worry about that, Rathman.” Starsky said. “If you do your part, and don’t try to resist when you’re arrested, you just may get off with a lighter sentence.”

“You promise?” The squinty eyes were sneaky again.

“We promise to do everything we can,” Hutch answered. “That’s the best you get.”

“I ain’t happy, but I’ll take it.” Rathman shoved Huggy out of the booth. 

Huggy went with him to the front door, unlocked and opened it. Rathman darted out. Huggy relocked, returned to the booth and slid in. “You believe him?” 

Starsky checked with Hutch and they both shook their heads. “No, but we have to operate as if we do.”

“Rathman said there’ll be violence,” Hutch reminded them.

Starsky read the list of names and addresses Rathman had written and pointed to the third. “We know the old couple that runs this one, Hutch. Can’t let anything happen to them.”

Hutch patted his arm. “We need to get this to Dobey. Ask him to authorize stake-outs. And maybe, just maybe, Rathman was telling the truth and we can wrap up Morgan and his clan tomorrow.”

Starsky kissed his partner on the cheek. “I love that positive attitude when you drag it out, partner.”

“Hey! Watch that stuff in here!” Huggy jumped up and backed away from the booth, clearly feigning offense. “I ain’t losin’ my liquor license just ‘cause you can’t keep your paws off each other.”

Starsky got up and put his arm around Hutch’s shoulders as he flowed out of the booth. On their way toward the back door, Hutch gripped Huggy’s shoulder. “You’ll be our best man, right, Hug?”

Huggy crossed his arms and huffed. “Ya gotta ask?”

*******

Back in Dobey’s office, with Rathman’s list of possible targets, plus a map and roster of available officers, Dobey positioned his men for the next day. “He could be lying to us,” Dobey said, “but it fits with the other locations Morgan’s hit.”

Minnie leaned over the map. “Could we get some help from adjacent precincts, Captain?”

Dobey nodded. “I’ll ask the chief to make some calls. I imagine the best they’ll be able to offer is to monitor our tach frequency and respond with as many units as possible, if anything happens.”

Starsky clicked his coffee cup against Hutch’s. “Best we could hope for, I guess.”

“What about the army, Captain?” Hutch suggested. “Shouldn’t we tell them we think we know who killed their officer?”

“Yes, we should.” Dobey turned to Minnie. “Get them on the horn for me, will you, Minnie? They may even be able to give us a hand.”

Minnie headed for the hallway door. “I’ve got the name of the lieutenant I spoke to down in my office. Be right back!”

*******

That night, after an especially energetic session of love-making, Starsky smoothed the silky hair from Hutch’s forehead and laid a kiss on the vertical furrow. “Think we should take Huggy into our confidence?”

Hutch threaded his long fingers into Starsky’s curls. “Do you really think it would be a surprise?” 

Starsky considered. “No, probably not.” He loosened his hold on the lithe, golden body and sat up, wrapping his arms around his knees. “I keep wondering when someone’s going to rat us out to Internal Affairs.”

Hutch sat up, leaned against the brass uprights, and drew Starsky to his chest. “We thought it might happen when we moved in here together after you got out of the hospital.”

Starsky snuggled. “We had good reasons for that.”

“Sure we did. And everybody got so used to me taking care of you, they never said a word.” 

“You think Dobey knows?”

“I think Dobey, Minnie, Huggy, maybe a few more, at least suspect. But since we’re not letting it interfere with the job, they’re all turning a blind eye.”

“I know I shouldn’t let it worry me but it does. It’s like waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

Hutch slid down under the covers and tugged on an elbow. “Well, it’s not going to happen tonight, babe.” 

Starsky forced himself to relax as he laid across his partner’s chest, the fingers of his right hand circling the left nipple. “Sleepy yet?”

“Only if you are.” Hutch’s hands pulled Starsky’s face up for a lip-lock and all thoughts of the Land of Nod vanished from Starsky’s mind.

*******

Starsky was unaccountably nervous the next day as he and Hutch sat in the Torino. They were parked on Euclid, prepared, they hoped, to head in any direction, once they knew which of the possible targets had been chosen. Teams of officers in unmarked cars were stationed closer to each address Rathman had given them, ready to call for reinforcements on Tach Two. 

“What did you think of Rathman?” Hutch asked into the silence.

“About as trustworthy as a Saigon shill.”

Hutch laughed. “Liked him that much, did you?”

Starsky knew he should smile but he couldn’t dredge one up. “No. Not that much.”

“Like him or not, we have to act on his information.”

Starsky nodded. “Because we need to catch one slimy bastard!”

Hutch laid a hand on Starsky’s thigh. “Don’t hold back, Starsk. Tell me what you really think of Morgan.”

Starsky did laugh at that. “Meanest, most corrosive man I’ve ever met. You wouldn’t believe how he hurt those families, Hutch. The ones who bought his lies and reimbursed him for their sons’ debts, then found out his stories weren’t true and they were left with false memories. And when Lt. James, Ma and I got deeper into the scam, we found out that he’d threatened some of them, the ones who declined to pay him, with exposing their sons’ drug usage and associations with prostitutes.” He pounded the steering wheel. “Hell! Almost everybody over there smoked weed. Some even went for the hard stuff. It was no secret. And finding a hooker when you were in Saigon was expected. But nobody wanted the folks back home to know about it.” He stroked the wheel, as if in apology for this temper. “Shit! Morgan even implied to a few of the families that their sons had been cowards. If they paid him, he’d keep his mouth shut.”

“‘Insult to injury’ on a whole new level.”

“I wanted to kill him, Hutch. I really did.”

“That wouldn’t have looked very good on your academy application.”

Starsky sent a rueful smile across the seat. “No, it wouldn’t.”

Over Hutch’s shoulder, Starsky saw a man stagger out of the liquor store slightly behind them. Blood was streaming from a gash in his forehead.

“Help!” The man sagged against the wall.

Starsky grabbed the radio’s mic. “Zebra Three. We’ve got a bleeding man at the liquor store on Euclid, seven hundred block. We’re responding.” As he hung up, Hutch jumped out of the car and headed for the man and the front door, his Python already in his hand.

Starsky leaped out and ran to the alley, drawing his Beretta. The passage was narrow and dark but he hurried. As he neared the rear of the building, a black rope, stretched between the walls, caught him just below the chin and took him down. Before he could get back on his feet, he was smothered under at least four guys. Gagging and trying to swallow around the tearing pain in his neck, his gun was taken and his hands were cuffed behind his back with his own restraints. 

No one spoke as he was dragged to the open rear passenger door of a station wagon and flung inside. Hutch landed almost on top of him, the door was slammed, and the car sped out of the alley. 

Starsky managed to pull himself onto the seat and, within a few moments, Hutch was beside him. “What hap…” Starsky swallowed and tried again. “What happened inside?” The pain was receding and he was glad he hadn’t lost his voice.

Hutch grimaced. “Not sure. There were people all over the floor and the bleeder was screaming but I was tackled by three others. They took my gun, hit me in the side of the head with it - not enough to put me out - slapped my own handcuffs on me, and dragged me to the back door.”

“Smooth.” 

“Thanks for that compliment, Sarge, I worked real hard on the plan.” Cain Morgan turned around in the front passenger seat. He casually waved the barrel of Hutch’s Magnum in their direction. “Don’t even think about trying anything. Your doors don’t open from the inside and the rest of my guys are right behind us. Gil, here, told you I had six, but I’ve actually got nine.”

Gil Rathman, the driver, threw a cocky grin over his shoulder. “You got ’em, Cain. Slicker ‘n eel shit!” 

“Shut up!” Morgan cast a hard look at the kid. “You just get us the hell out of the city. Do not speed or run any red lights. We don’t want a patrol car on our tail.”

“Don’t you worry. I’m your wheel man and your fly boy.” Rathman threw a grin at Starsky in his rearview mirror. “But I gotta tell ya, I’m stoked about having Starsky’s big bad Beretta in my waistband.”

“I said stow it,” Morgan snarled. Rathman clearly didn’t like the put-down but he concentrated on his driving. Morgan pointed the .357’s muzzle at Starsky’s chest. “Knew you’d remember me sooner or later, Starsky.”

Hutch leaned against Starsky’s shoulder. “My partner remembers everyone, Morgan, including people as rotten as you.” 

Morgan transferred the direction of the gun barrel to Hutch. “I got nothing against you, Hutchinson. Soon as we get where we’re going you can leave.”

“In your dreams,” Hutch relied.

Morgan’s face flushed. “Oh, you have no idea what my dreams have been like the last twelve years!” 

Hutch shrugged. “Too bad the military no longer uses firing squads. You’re the perfect excuse for the reinstatement of that time honored tradition.”

“Big talk from a prisoner, Hutchinson,” Morgan growled. “Guess you’ll be joining Starsky in the grave I’ve already dug for him.”

“We’ll see,” Hutch muttered.

“A drive-by was lame, Morgan,” Starsky said. “Couldn’t figure out a way to set Captain James up, like you did me?”

“No time.” Morgan waved the gun. “Wanted to get to you before you knew I was out.”

Starsky shook his head in what he hoped was a dismissive gesture. “Show yourself at the scenes, write me a note? See if I’d remember you? Amateur Hour.”

“Worked, didn’t it?” Morgan crowed. “You’re here. Your backup isn’t. It’s my show. I’m the producer and director of this little drama. You’re the actors and it’s almost a shame that you’ll only be getting an opening night.” 

Rathman laughed. “An open-and-close performance! The critics’ll have a ball with that!”

Starsky checked out the side windows and even glanced toward the back but couldn’t spot any law enforcement vehicles following them. There was only a twelve-passenger shuttle right behind; undoubtedly the rest of Morgan’s gang.

Starsky cleared his throat from the effects of the clothesline. “Bringing drugs into the country in the transfer cases was pretty nasty, Morgan, but what I don’t understand is why you tormented all those families.”

“I never had a decent one of my own, Starsky.” Morgan’s eyes were slightly glazed. “Why shouldn’t I mess with those sanctimonious, self-righteous shits?”

“Well, let me think…” Hutch cocked his head as if in contemplation. “Because it’s deplorable?” 

“Despicable, Hutch. That’s the word Minnie used.”

“Right, Starsk, a much better word.”

Starsky wanted to rattle Morgan’s cage and knew his partner would play along. “Contemptible?” 

“Another good one.” Hutch’s knee pressed against his. “How about intolerable?”

“Shut up!” Morgan’s eyes were wide and bugged.

Starsky ignored the trembling gun barrel. He might pay with his life but if he could get Morgan to lose control before they got to wherever they were going, Hutch might have a chance to get away. He shook his head. “I’m not the college boy you are, partner, what other words could we use?”

“Scornful. Detestable,” Hutch offered.

“Wait a minute, I’m remembering some others.” Starsky looked into Hutch’s eyes, maybe for the last time, letting his love put the lie to his next word. “Hateful?”

Hutch undoubtedly knew what he was doing because he smiled. “Good one.” 

“Odious?” Starsky offered.

“Even better. Reader’s Digest?” Hutch guessed.

Starsky forced a laugh. “How’d you know?”

“Those lists every month --”

The Magnum spoke and a searing pain in Starsky’s right shoulder took his breath. The sound was loud enough in the confined space to nearly deafen him. Smoke and the smell of gunpowder filled the wagon. 

Rathman nearly lost control of the vehicle and by the time he’d managed to straighten the wheel and continue on course, much of the stench and dirty air had blown out the open windows. 

Morgan’s face was flushed and the hand holding the Python shook. “Shut the fuck up!” He faced front, breathing deeply, visibly trying to rein in his fury.

Starsky knew he wasn’t hurt badly and forced the discomfort away. He cast a casual glance at the hole in the upholstery between his and Hutch’s bleeding shoulders. “Guess we got to him, huh, partner?” He kept his voice down so as not to agitate Morgan any more, at least not right now.

“It would seem so,” Hutch replied, also sotto voce.

“Hope it didn’t hit the gas tank.”

“Gee, that would be a pity.” Hutch chuckled. “We wouldn’t get where we’re going.”

“Probably room in the shuttle back there.” Starsky jerked his head toward the rear.

“For all four of us?”

“Good point,” Starsky conceded. “Of course, those guys are expendable. Morgan could just drop them off.”

“Or kill them.”

“There’s always that.” Starsky looked at the blood seeping from the rent in Hutch’s jacket. “You okay?”

Hutch shrugged but grimaced when it obviously hurt. “Flesh wound, Starsk. Just a flesh wound.” Hutch glanced down at the matching injury to Starsky’s arm. “You?”

“That is one hellacious weapon you carry, Hutchinson.”

Hutch flushed all the way to his hairline. “So glad you’ve noticed.”

Starsky leaned more solidly against his partner, wanting not only to share the strength, but also the blood. “Now we’re really brothers, Hutch.”

Hutch’s smile lit the dim, still smoky interior of the speeding car. “Yes, we are.”

With only the sound of tires on pavement and the engine to accompany them for the rest of the trip, Starsky considered the fact that he and Hutch were in pretty deep trouble. He hadn’t given up hope yet though, he knew Dobey was nothing if not a bulldog-determined cop. If anybody could find them and arrive with help, it would be him!

Rathman finally drove the station wagon between pushed-down gates of what appeared to be a small airfield. A couple of disreputable hangers and a control tower with broken windows were clustered at the edge of a short runway. A single-engine Beechcraft sat waiting. Two men, armed with assault rifles, rose to their feet from the shadow of the fuselage. They must have recognized the approaching vehicles because neither of them unlimbered his weapon. 

Crumbling two- and three-story buildings of what might have once been an industrial park crowded the field on all sides.

The shuttle stopped beside the wagon and hands pulled Hutch, then Starsky from the back seat. Starsky tried to stay in contact with his partner’s still-bleeding shoulder as they were shoved over to the aircraft and forced to their knees at the wing.

Morgan drew an oversize envelope out of his jacket pocket and handed it to the foremost member of the gang. His fury seemed to have dissipated and his voice was level again. “Partial payment’s in there, just like I promised, with directions to the rest.” He looked at Rathman. “Did you leave the keys in the wagon?”

Rathman had resumed his cocky attitude. “Sure did, Boss!”

Morgan turned back to the gang leader. “Take it and get out. You did good. Now disappear. None of you ever heard of me!”

Chuckling, the leader stuffed the envelope in his waistband. “What did you say your name was, again?” Herding everyone except Rathman back to the van and wagon, they piled in, turned both around, and headed for the highway.

Rathman climbed into the plane and began what was most likely a pre-flight check.

Hutch sat and crossed his legs, Indian fashion. “Do you happen to have a first aid kit in the plane, Morgan? My partner and I could use a little attention.”

Starsky took a similar position next to him. “That is, if you want us to live until we get to wherever we’re going.”

“Jesus!” Morgan swore. “What a couple of wimps! Scratches, that’s all you’ve got.”

“You’re not the one sporting the scratches, Morgan,” Starsky replied. “Don’t know about Hutch, but mine sure as hell hurts!”

“Good!” Morgan strode away and, again, Starsky wondered if it was drugs or insanity that was driving the man’s desperation and anger. He stopped a few yards away and had an incomprehensible conversation with himself. When he strolled back, his expression was very nearly blank.

“Where’s this grave you were talking about, Morgan?” Hutch’s tone was casual.

Morgan lit a cigarette. “Mexico. Lots of desert down there where your bodies will never be found.” He squatted down in front of Starsky. “But I spent a lot of years in prison, Starsky, so you better believe I’m going to have some fun with you and your partner first.”

“Did you learn a lot about torture in Leavenworth?” Starsky hoped he sounded nonchalant.

“Other joints’ inmates get more physical, I hear, but I learned enough,” Morgan told them. “And I wrote everything down, just so I’d be able to demonstrate all of it as soon as I got my hands on you.”

Starsky donned a sneer. “Still using other people’s playbooks? You never did have an original thought.”

“Now wait a minute, Starsk.” Hutch nudged him. “I think the number he did on those KIA families was unique.” 

The jostle to his shoulder helped Starsky slough off the lethargy he was beginning to feel. “You’re right, partner. Preying on those people with lies and con games was new and different.” He glared at the face leering at him. “I’ll give you that. But it was also damnable, to my way of thinking.” He shot a grin at Hutch. “There’s another word, Hutch!”

Hutch nodded. “And a very good one, too.”

Starsky wiped the smile off his face and showed Morgan his hatred. “You shouldn’t have been locked up, you should have been shot!”

Hutch nudged him again. “Take it easy, Starsk, you’re ruffling the feathers of our soon-to-be-murderer.”

“Pay attention to your partner, Starsky! Seems like he’s got more smarts than you. Although it ain’t gonna save his life.” Morgan stood. “Hurry up, kid!” he yelled toward the cockpit.

With no warning whatsoever, all three of the plane’s tires exploded. The sound of the sniper rounds arrived a heartbeat later. 

Morgan raised the Python toward Starsky’s head but another bullet hit his right arm. He screamed, dropped the weapon, stumbled, and fell onto his undamaged side.

Rathman scrambled out of the Beechcraft and ran. Within two strides, he was brought down by a shot to his leg. 

BCPD, Sheriff’s and U.S. Army Military Police vehicles sped toward them from all directions.

Leaning against each other for balance, Starsky and Hutch stood up. Starsky turned around and dug the keys to Hutch’s cuffs out of his partner’s jacket pocket. Fitting the tiny key, backward and blind, into the lock wasn’t easy with bloody fingers. 

Uniformed, flak-jacketed law enforcement officers of many persuasions were crowding around them but Hutch motioned for them to stay back while he got Starsky’s keys out and released him, too.

With his left arm hanging at his side, Hutch picked up his Python and handed it to an officer in a BCPD uniform! “Take care of that for me, will you, please?” He gestured toward the fallen Morgan. “He shot my partner and me with it.”

The officer took the weapon carefully. “Yes, sir!” 

Starsky walked the couple of steps to Rathman’s side, flipped the jacket open and retrieved his Beretta. “You had your chance, kid. Only one to a customer.” Returning to Hutch, he used his foot to push Morgan onto his back. “I’m going to make sure you rot in Leavenworth for the rest of you life this time.”

Dobey was in the ring of rescuers, waiting patiently, his expression one of concerned relief.

“How’d you find us, Cap?” Starsky holstered his gun, trying not to show the pain that was creeping up on him.

Dobey waved two emergency vehicles closer. “We’ve got injured officers!”

The bright red squad and fire truck pulled up and medical personnel poured out. Two approached Starsky and Hutch while others went to Morgan and Rathman.

Dobey glanced around until he was apparently satisfied that his posse had the situation under control before ushering Starsky and Hutch to the back of the medical vehicle. He stood stoically next to them as techs had them take seats on the large bumper and began an inspection of the nearly identical right- and left-arm wounds.

Dobey took a deep breath. “Huggy had a feeling about your informant. He didn’t trust him. So he put his own network of snitches on you two. When the liquor store robbery went down, his guys followed Morgan’s station wagon and bus. Huggy got himself patched through to my stake-out location and told me what had happened. With his description and license plate numbers they were found by a traffic copter and unmarked cars in no time.” He slumped onto the corner of the bumper. “As soon as it was obvious you were headed out of town, I notified the Sheriff. It may have felt as if you were on your own, fellas, but you were never out of our sight.”

“We sure appreciate all the effort, Captain.” Starsky grimaced as an EMT swabbed the slash across his upper arm.

“We need to get these guys to a hospital, Captain.” The tech looked up from his work. “They’re going to need some stitches, antibiotics and pain meds.”

Starsky and Hutch both opened their mouths to protest but Dobey put up a large hand. “No arguments! I’ll be right behind you.”

“What happened to the shuttle bus, Captain?” Hutch asked, as a tech taped a large gauze pad over his wound.

Dobey actually smiled. “It was stopped before it got to the highway.” He waved over two uniformed Military Police officers. “It seems as if the Army is very anxious to take Cain Morgan off our hands.”

Starsky watched an EMT tape a pressure bandage onto Morgan’s shoulder. “As far as I’m concerned, Cap, they’re more than welcome to him!”

*******

The Pits that night was packed with customers but the mood was somber. Starsky and Hutch, their right and left arms, respectively, in slings, sat across from Huggy and Dobey in a rear booth.

Starsky picked up his brown bottle. “If one beer is all I’m allowed tonight, I’m making a toast.” He clicked it against Huggy’s. “We owe you, big time, for this one, Hug.”

Hutch lightly knocked his own bottle against Huggy’s. “We sure do.”

Huggy waved a hand. “Forget it, guys. We’re family! What was I supposed to do?”

“Speaking of family,” Dobey said, “it turns out Gil Rathman is Morgan’s nephew.”

Starsky sat back and thought about that one, almost hearing his partner’s mental wheels spinning, too. “How do you know that?”

“When he didn’t show up at the landing strip in Mexico,” Dobey continued, “his sister high-tailed it back here to find out what happened. While you two were getting patched up, Babcock tracked me down at the hospital. He told me there was a woman wandering around the precinct looking for her brother. I went to talk to her.”

“Is she black?” Huggy asked.

“No, but her late husband was,” Dobey answered. “Clarence Rathman. Thief, con man, all around lowlife. Didn’t survive his last stretch in prison.” 

Starsky shook his head. “That’s weird. Morgan told both Lt. James and me that he had no family.”

Dobey shrugged. “Texas Child Services split them up. She lost track of him until she read about his arrest twelve years ago. She wrote to him while he was in Leavenworth and, when he got out, she offered him her hospitality. She knew all about the plan because she’d been putting all of them up in her tiny little house. No secrets in a situation like that.”

Starsky drank some beer. “No, I guess not.”

Hutch took it one step further. “Gil, growing up with his no-good father as a role model, transferred his allegiance to Morgan.” 

Starsky realized it was true but it made him sad. “The sister and Rathman are both on the hook as accessories to some pretty serious charges.”

“It’s a shame,” Hutch agreed, “but it makes sense of Rathman’s allegiance, Starsk. Family.”

Starsky had to think about that for a minute. Coming to a conclusion, he picked up his bottle and held it in the center of the table. Hutch, Huggy and Dobey all touched theirs to it. “I like my definition of family better. The one I got right here.”

 

END


End file.
